the angel got a knife and i've got skin to spare
so we find a way to god's attention and he doesn't see
i don't understand:
who couldn't notice so much blood?
who could watch this mess and still say nothing?

and that’s how it always goes.
he shatters not only your heart but also your soul and mind
and abandons you in the most awful way,
and you’re the one who goes crawling back to him
with what’s left of your broken body,
but his door is locked.

that’s how it always goes; you send him three messages in a row
and they remain unanswered,
as if you were the heartless ***** who did something terrible
when in reality he should be the one filling your inbox
with apologies and saturating your answerphone
with desperate pleas.

that’s how it always goes; he’s the one who mistreated you
and he won’t say a word to you again as if he was the victim,
and you, who should be happy he’s gone
and cursing him with all you’ve got,
gently stroke the bruises he left on your soul,
and you ask for more, and you beg him to take you back.
but that’s how it always goes; now  you know what stockholm syndrome is all about.

and i could never understand
why i loved you more,
or why i loved you at all,
because you left bruises on my heart
and bruises on my skin and i forgot
the taste of your lips because i was
drowning in my tears
and love is supposed to be drowning in a
good way, not drowning in a
“oh my god there’s so much
blood” kind of way.

and i have yet to understand why
you loved her more
or why you loved her at all
because saying her name burned your throat
worse than alcohol did and she left you
with a smile on her face and
her knife in your chest but you
still crawled after her.

   -*but maybe it’s human nature to want what makes our insides turn

I start to regret everything that happened in March. I don’t want them anymore. You can keep all the memories, if it were even worth remembering for you—but do me a favor and please please please don’t get them mixed up with your other girls’.

This is all the goodbye I should’ve meant. The jealously are worth nothing. Go ahead and love her and watch me watch you unflinching. Let’s just highlight the whole pages and marked them nonsense. I had to admit I still try to find us sometimes in the ripped papers. [noted that it is ripped. noted that I shoved it down the fire now]

I won’t let you ruin my favorite song. I won’t let you ruin this safe heaven. This is where I learn to put myself above the idea of you / of letting you go / of wishing you would just ******* come back. This where I stop romanticizing pain. This is where I stop scrubbing my skin with glass to dug you up. This to say: I let you hurt me—that shouldn’t have happened. I start to be honest to myself: you don’t love me. you left. that isn’t really the end of the world.

i feel like a train station and what i mean is, i am something liminal. what i mean is, everyone is always leaving. it is always getting dark and everything is always too loud. there is ruin where ruin shouldn't be. there is stench of bad decisions in the dirt. what i mean is, i am always halfway to a beautiful place. i have only seen heaven from the postcards
   -*my heaven would be a love without betrayal

i still got your love bite but not your love
   -*ten words poetry

i do not enjoy having a collection of sticky notes
covered in conversation topics
because you never held up your end
it is true that one person always loves more
but the other side needs to give something
you knew this would happen when i have to go for my own self respect
i should have known when you stopped sending good morning texts
or when your texts didn't come at all until late at night

maybe i should've turned my phone off or leave you on read
when you told me about the first girl, or the second, or the third
but i always thought you were worth it
you always listened, you respected my boundaries
it's probably easy when you have six other girls who will give you what  i protect
you killed me over and over again
and you know it